


Glances That Never Met, Until They Did

by anarchycox



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Hawke goes to Skyhold, M/M, Mage Hawke - Freeform, Mutual Pining, Pining, Purple Hawke, Snark, and a disaster human, happy ever after, hawke is a very good mage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-08-10 22:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20143051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anarchycox/pseuds/anarchycox
Summary: When Hawke went to Skyhold he was going to play it cool. He had been in love with Cullen for ten years, no biggie. Seeing him would be fine. He was all stoic and end of the world. No time for crushes. Business to do.But it is Hawke, and there is always time to be a disaster, and for feelings to come rushing back.





	Glances That Never Met, Until They Did

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wednesday](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/gifts).

“So, Skyhold, up here, in the sky,” Hawke said. “Nice and cold. Big sky. Stone walls. No slave statues that’s nice.” He smiled. “Go freedom!” Varric was giving him the you are an idiot look - he couldn’t believe how much he had missed that look. Fenris had tried, but with him it had been a bit more...serious, not the affection for a puppy that dug up the flowers look Varric gave. He wished Fenris was there though, he and Cullen had always gotten along. That whole mages are suspect thing they had - and their mutual frustration with Hawke.

He had always wondered why they hadn’t gotten together, had even asked Fenris once, and Fenris had said that he wasn’t what Cullen wanted. And he didn’t particularly want Cullen, or anyone. Which was fair, people sucked. Sometimes they said things like  _ Go freedom!  _ to a man they had been crushing on for over a decade. “How goes leading an army that isn’t completely full of rapists, madmen, and general arses?” Yup, people sucked and he topped the list. Hawke gave a sickly smile to Cullen. 

Cullen gave a polite smile in return. “I see the last two years haven’t changed you much Hawke.”

“The beard is a goatee now,” Hawke offered. “Oh, and my one knee is a bit dodgy in the rain. And I had to abandon all my friends and family to keep them safe. I can also do this now.” Hawke gestured, and was covered in rock armor. “I finally got a handle on elemental magic. Bet that makes you happy, that I’ve mastered another branch.”

“It does, you’ll need it for what is ahead. It is good to see you well, Hawke. If you have need of lyrium while you are here, the stores are open to you. If you’ll excuse me, I have reports to read.”

“I’ll be at your bar later, drinking. Alone! We could catch up. Been a long time since I got to tell you how pretty you are, and what I would do for one of your smiles.”

“I still have the list you provided, and I doubt you’ll be alone long.” Cullen nodded and walked away, and Hawke watched him. Fuck the new clothes were so much better than the old templar armor. He would have swooned, but Varric wouldn’t have caught him. 

“He kept my letter,” Hawke said dreamily. 

“Hawke, end of the world?” Varric reminded him. “I know you liked to tease Curly back in the day, wind the poor bastard up. But he’s been getting his head on straight, while dealing with building an army that can stop the end of the world. Go easy on him.”

“Wait, you are defending Cullen?” Hawke stared at Varric in shock. “You always hated him.”

“No, I hated how you liked him.”

“I like everyone,” Hawke protested. “I’m a friendly person.”

“Hawke, just...focus?”

“Varric, I am focused, this is hurting Grey Wardens. Carver is a Grey Warden. I am anything but not focused. Now, where is the bar?”

“Come on, I think you’ll like Sera and Bull,” Varric said, and they walked down to the bar.

“You put together another group of misfits?” Hawke asked. He saw a couple people from Kirkwall, a couple templars -- ones he remembered as good ones. Actually, he hadn’t seen any of the ones who had been...difficult. 

“The Inquisitor draws an even more interesting group than you did,” Varric replied.

Hawke liked the bar. It was small, and Bull took up a lot of it, but he had good bullshit to share, and Sera was almost as good a thief as he was. He had a few ale, made sure it looked like he drank double what he had. Bull caught on, but no one else did -- and if the only person to notice was a trained spy, he was probably fine. He went outside to take a piss, and decided to go on the ramparts a bit. He needed some space. He looked out at the view decided to sit on the ground. That was too much fucking sky.

“Why is he so beautiful? He hates everything I am, and all I want is him. It hurts wanting him. I want the hurting to stop.” 

Hawke looked over at the voice. “Hello,” he said softly. “Please, not now, demon.”

“I’m Cole, you are awake. I can help with the hurting. Make you forget?”

“You’d have to make me forget a lot. I’m used to the pain.”

“I was too. Then the pain stopped. But then there was a different pain. Will I get used to it?”

“I hope not,” Hawke looked at him. “What are you?”

“I’m still figuring that out. Varric is helping me.”

“He’s good for that. Can you answer a question for me?”

“I don’t know. Mabaris just love because that’s who they are.”

“That is a comfort. No my question is this, how is he? If you can so easily read my thoughts, you know who I mean.” Hawke’s eyes went to a tower that was lit. A body paced by the windows. He had watched Cullen pace for years in Kirkwall, he recognized the shape of him. Hawke always wondered how much of that pacing was because of him. He had made sure to annoy the man, because at least then Cullen would think of him. But he was probably wrong - Cullen had never spared a thought for Hawke unless Hawke was directly there causing problems.

“He hurts, like you, but different. Lost chances, mistakes, the hole where lyrium should be, hurts always but he thinks he deserves it. He is used to pain too.”

“I don’t want your help, but if you have some to spare, can you can offer it to him.”

“He dreams of you.”

“Nightmares I am sure,” Hawke gave a hollow laugh. “Few think of me fondly.”

“No, he is definitely not fond,” Cole agreed. “I’ll see if he’ll let me help. He always says no.”

Hawke stared up at the sky for a moment - of course Cullen wasn’t fond. He turned to speak to the boy, but he was gone. Hawke should go back to the bar, but he had to leave for Crestwood in the morning. He stared at the tower where Cullen was, and then went to the room they had offered him.

*****

“You know, I almost regret not joing up with the Inquisition right away,” Hawke said as he stood in Cullen’s office. “Shouldn’t have had Varric hide me. Do you want to know why?”

“All the handsome soldiers training in the courtyard, you mentioned once having a thing for men with long...swords.” 

Hawke felt his jaw drop. “I said that nine years ago.”

“You asked me how long my sword was, and when you were about to make further ribald comments, the pirate stole your thunder. You were very disappointed.” Cullen looked up from his reading. 

Hawke was about to make a crack, he had worked on the joke the whole way back from the Western Approach. “You don’t look good.”

“That’s a first from you. Usually you go on about my eyes.”

“You are gorgeous,” Hawke replied in a rare moment where he didn’t hide himself in his words. “But you don’t look well.”

“It has been a trying week,” Cullen seemed surprised that he admitted such, to Hawke.

“I’ve heard a rumour, that you are no longer taking lyrium.”

“That shouldn’t have reached your ears.”

“Story of a great deal of my life.”

“I am sure you have something clever to say about that Hawke - but please -”

“I am proud of you,” Hawke interrupted. “The Inquisition has been good for you Commander.”

“You usually call me Cullen.”

“A moment of respect.”

“It is weird on your lips, Hawke.” Cullen paused. “Do you know, I do not actually know your name?”

“It would have been on the million reports you had on me in Kirkwall.”

“I filed those where they belonged, it the rubbish bin, or kindling. You were a frustration Hawke, but you were a good man. I was not going to hunt you. Not when you were all that stood between Kirkwall and madness. I regret I didn’t stand with you.”

“You did.”

“Too late.”

“You are standing now, Commander.” Hawke gave him a smile. “I’ll leave you be.”

“Wait, before you go, why do you wish you had joined the Inquisition?”

“Like you said, all the charming buff men. So many often shirtless. Do you ever get shirtless with them Cullen? I would very much like to see that.” Hawke made sure to put a stupid grin on his face, even wiggled his eyebrows. This had been far too serious. “Or maybe just strategically torn?”

“Away with you Hawke,” Cullen dismissed.

“Garrett,” he said with a wink. “So you have something to shout when you dream of me.”

Cullen laughed, and Hawke held the sound close to his heart.

*****

At Adamant, he had seen Cullen fight with a mage by his side. Not just a mage, a Tevinter mage. And it wasn’t that he was keeping an eye on the mage. No, he watched them move in perfect harmony, a dance of warrior and magic, protecting each other, destroying everything in their path. 

It was almost poetry.

Hawke really fucking hated poetry.  And he hated the fade even more. He argued with Stroud and they all followed the Inquisitor, a woman resolute in her faith. God, Hawke wished he had faith. He also wished he had her sword and shield.  He sent a shock wave across the fade, knocking the two demons approaching Varric back. Okay, maybe he was fine with his magic. He mind blasted the spiders near him and sent healing magic to the Inquisitor.

“How do you know how to do everything?” Blackwall asked.

“Hawke gets bored easily and picks up magic the way people pick up knitting,” Varric said. “It is really annoying, that if he were respectable, he’d be the one leading the mages.”

“I don’t lead anyone, anywhere except to my bed.”

Bull gave a good snort at that. They were doing quite well actually, and fought the fear demon. Ugly fucker, and Varric got out of the fade. Good. He, Stroud, and the Inquisitor started to move forward, and then a big fucking monster was in the way. Oh god. He said something, and Stroud said something, and the Inquisitor looked heartbroken.

She was a good one.

Varric picked a much better person to follow this time. “Inquisitor, tell Varric...guess he doesn’t have to pay up after all.” Hawke shook off the Rock Armor, he’d need all his mana for offensive work. He slammed down three lyrium potions, felt it coursing through his veins. “And tell Cullen...tell him it was never a joke.” Oh, that had maybe been too much lyrium, but hey, what could you do?

Hawke ran forward. “Hey, ugly, you like nightmares? I’ll show you a good one.” Hawke screamed, and turned himself into frozen flame; he ran forward, Haste, and a few spells he hadn’t known he knew. He was everything his father had taught him, everything that Kirkwall had made him, everything Fenris and Cullen feared in a mage. He looked more like an ancient god than Corypheus ever could, and he dove right into the heart of the monster.

Every scream from the creature was an incredible noise, and he saw the Inquisitor and Stroud climb up those steps. Something snapped inside him, broke. He thought maybe it was a few ribs, he wasn’t sure. Seeing was difficult, the magic pouring out of him bursting blood vessels in his eyes.

Varric was going to be upset. But in the end, who would miss him really? They had all built lives, worlds after him. He didn’t have much. But he had fucked up some sort of uber demon in the fade, that was neat.

Huh, it wasn’t moving. That was really neat. Hawke collapsed and he realized he was on those stairs that everyone else had climbed. The light at the top was getting smaller. And he could see Cullen. His Cullen fighting next to that mage with the really good mustache.

If Cullen was going to fight beside anyone with good facial hair it was him. 

Moving kinda hurt though. And that light was getting smaller. He reached into his pocket. Another lyrium potion. The super duper, Fenris gave it to him, only for absolutely emergencies potion. That maybe had a bit of Fenris’s skin lyrium in it - the most distilled perfect lyrium in it.

Fenris was a nifty friend. He really had to buy him a pony.

Hawke giggled and drank the potion.

He screamed as it hit his already overwrought system. He barely thought Haste and it felt like his whole body jerked and flew. He wasn’t even sure how he went up the steps, and through the opening that was barely Hawke width. He collapsed on stone just as he heard the Inquisitor mentioning his sacrifice. “Not dead yet. Couldn’t, couldn’t let someone else have the last -” he passed out, maybe died, he wasn’t sure. It was just black.

******

Hawke didn’t like waking up. “Ow,” he said. “Ow, ow, ow, ow. Should have died in the fade.”

“You should have,” a voice agreed. “But you didn’t. I have to admit, I am not used to mages who pull off impossible stunts with more flair than me. You’ve shaken my whole worldview.”

Hawke opened eyes that could barely see. He saw that perfect mustache. “Oh, I hate you!” he managed to say, and closed his eyes.

“A common sentiment here in the south. Tevinter mages not very popular. Paint you all with a bad brush. But I am a part of the team who saved your life, at the Commander’s insistence. He trusts very few with you.”

“That’s why I hate you.”

“Because Tevinter, yes I know.”

Hawke wanted to sit up, but bugger everything hurt. He was more stubborn than pain though. He had fought the Arishok, after he had been almost gutted by the bastard’s left horn. He cursed and pulled himself up.

“It is a thing where all Fereldeners are the most stubborn fools in Thedas?”

“Yes, it’s all we got.”

“Don’t forget the mud.”

“Don’t be clever,” Hawke whined. He opened his eyes, and tried to cast healing on himself. He had barely a sputter. “Overdid huh?”

“It’s a miracle you didn’t burn the magic out of you. Later, I’ll have questions for you.” Healing cast over him, and he sighed in relief. “Because what you did? That, Hawke, is the stuff legends are built on.”

Hawke could focus clearly and looked at Dorian. “I hate you because he fought beside you. At Adamant. He trusted you. Without question. You two fought as one. He hates mages and fought next to you, a bloody magister.”

“Altus,” Dorian sighed, clearly used to saying it.

“Fasta vass,” Hawke snapped. “Like I give a fuck about your class; you could be the Black Divine for all I care. What I care about is I spent almost a decade trying to show him that mages were not to be feared, that we could be trustworthy.”

“Didn’t you spend that time, help mages escape his tower, and generally fucking his shit up?”

“In a trustworthy sort of manner. I turned the bad ones in,” Hawke muttered. “Not the point. I never once was tempted by a demon - they are sticky and why do all the desire demons have tits? How was that going to tempt me?”

“On that I quite agree,” Dorian was smiling, and he was all gorgeous and stuff and Hawke could understand why Cullen was clearly in love with him. “So you were completely above reproach in Kirkwall? That is not what Varric’s books say.”

“He exaggerated, and for a scheming, thieving, murdery, slutty, sorta kinda mercenary, I was quite above reproach.” Hawke was glaring at the man. “I told him I loved him a million times, and showed him mages weren’t garbage, and he ignored it all. And oooh he gets a big tower in the sky, and gets a Tevinter altus who reaps on the benefits? That is why I hate you. Because you have everything I dreamed of. Everything I knew he could never give me, because he was completely messed up from lyrium and what happened in Ferelden. But no, it wasn’t about me being a mage. It was just about me being me.” Hawke collapsed back against the pillows, exhausted. “You do really great magic by the way, what’s your actual branch of study?”

“Necromancy, though I work with foolish warriors who just charge into battle, so I’ve been picking up a great deal of healing.”

“That’s what happened to me too,” Hawke said. “My best friend, wields a maul, bigger than him. And just tra la la, I’m going to leap into the middle of these ten slavers. Learned healing fast.”

“You mean boyfriend,” a voice called out.

Hawke looked around Dorian, “Who?” 

Cullen walked in, and Hawke would have gotten hard as hell if he wasn’t in so much pain. The man was naked. Well for Cullen. It was leather pants, and a shirt, the mantle over his shoulders. Not a piece of armor. That equaled naked. “You are speaking of Fenris. But you misspoke. You called him your best friend.”

“Well sure, Varric likes to think he’s my best friend, but he’s more like the uncle who sneaks you your first cigar. Fenris is my best friend.”

Dorian had perked up at the name. “Wait do you mean Fenris, Fenris, from Tevinter Fenris? The -”

“Yup. And nope, not telling you fuck all about him. Sorry, I mean I hate you, but not like a lot, but he would so hate you. Mage from Tevinter? Sorry, best friend code, cannot tell you a thing about him. But! In thanks for keeping me alive, I’ll tell him to not kill you. He might listen.”

“Thank you, that is a wonderful thing, not dying. And besides I have a best friend with a maul too.”

“Aren’t they so much fun?”

“They are. Do you know mine is a qunari?”

“Wait, wait wait.” Hawke was trying to get his brain to sort all the pieces. “Ugh, thinking is hard. Stupid being hit in the head by big mean fear demon.”

“Also probably the lyrium overdose, isn’t helping.”

“Bull was talking about a mage that he wanted to shut up. But in a good way. Like cock in a mouth sort of way.” Hawke blinked. “Wait. I hate you!”

“You said, several times,” Dorian was looking concerned. “I need to do research, you shouldn’t be repeating yourself so much.”

“No, because Bull said the mage was into it too, but they still had to dance longer, and damn did those Tevene know how to dance. You can’t dance with Bull when Cullen is in love with you. No hurting Cullen ever.”

“I can assure you, Commander Rutherford is not held in my affections beyond that of being a true friend in dark and lonely times,” Dorian said solemnly to Hawke.

“But you fought side by side. You fought with a mage, Cullen, that is mean. That he’s the mage you decide is okay,” Hawke was pouting. “I complimented your arse! In that shitty templar armor!”

Dorian was putting it all together. And knew he should leave. “Commander, our fearless hero, needs his bandages changed. I need to prepare a potion for him. Perhaps you could help him?” Dorian gave Cullen a look, that Hawke couldn’t begin to understand.

But Cullen sat on his bed, and Hawke almost passed out. Because Cullen was maybe going to be touching him. “Hi,” Hawke said. “So, how about those Grey Wardens, make our Kirkwall shit look downright trivial."

“You’ll not be able to travel for a time, you are rather a mess. We can get word to Fenris, have him brought here.”

“No, he’s busy killing slavers, and then he’ll go find Carver.”

“Why would he go find Carver?”

“Because he thinks Carver is cute? I mean I don’t get it, Carver has a face like a frozen troll, but they can be all grumpy together fighting with their big fighty things. Or maybe he just thinks Carver is a good soldier. I dunno. I didn’t ask too many questions. But he’s good.”

“That makes no sense. Fenris loved you. And you loved him.” Cullen had begun to unwrap the bandage on his arm. “It is why I -”

Wait, what? “Wait, what?” Hawke was confused. “Fenris and I were never together. We were friends who bickered about magic. A lot. Shield mates, I guess is an old term. I’d die for that dour bastard, but we didn’t. He’s not like that. He doesn’t want...that. With me."

“I see.” Hawke sighed when Cullen cleaned the wound, and then wrapped it again. He slowly washed Hawke’s neck, and chest with the bit of water that had been left. “Dorian wasn’t the first mage I fought beside. That was you.” He kept washing Hawke, and Hawke watched as Cullen couldn’t look at him in the eye. “I was able to trust Dorian when he came in with the Inquisitor because he had stupid facial hair, and a sarcastic mouth, and a beautiful smile, all of which reminded me of you. I learned to fight next to him, because everything he did, it made me think of you.”

“You never think of me.”

“I always think of you, Hawke,” Cullen said.

“Oh.” Hawke looked at him. “I’m single. Always been single. Everyone got annoyed about how much I talked about you.”

“I was whipped twice, for refusing to bring you in.”

“You win,” Hawke said immediately. “You should have brought me in, I woulda busted out. It would have been fine.”

“I couldn’t imagine, hurting you. Gagging you, but not hurting you. I could endure the pain.”

“Have we spent a decade liking each other and not realizing? Because that is not great.” Hawke leaned forward to kiss him, but it hurt too much and he collapsed against his pillows. 

“To be fair, I only fell in love with you about five years ago. When you sat on the steps of the gallows and cried, because a good templar soldier had died.”

Hawke didn’t really remember that, so many people died during their time in Kirkwall. “You did look really great in the armor. But I like your look here more.”

“I like it as well. I’m not...I am a mess Hawke.”

“Cullen, have you met me?”

“That is a very fair point. You mentioned being interested in joining the Inquisition because of the shirtless soldiers in the courtyard.”

“It’s a hell of an incentive,” Hawke agreed.

“I hope you watch them tomorrow,” Cullen replied and gave a polite nod, and left as Dorian approached again.

“I don’t hate you,” Hawke told Dorian.

“Oh goody, we can be best friends, and bond over facial hair.”

“It is a really great mustache, you have there.”

“I know,” Dorian smiled, and Hawke laughed. They were totally going to be friends.

In the morning, Hawke insisted he get to leave bed and take in fresh air by the courtyard. Cullen was leading the soldiers in their forms, and when he saw Hawke, Hawke watched him draw off his shirt. “Oh I am not healed enough for this,” Hawke moaned but kept watching Cullen move with his sword and shield and no shirt.

“Hawke, are you going to corrupt our noble Commander?” Varric asked as he came over.

“Damn right I am,” Hawke said. He started to move forward, but almost collapsed, still too weak. “In a week or two.” Varric helped him back to the infirmary. “Think I’ll fit in with the Inquisition?”

“I think we’ll all be dead within two weeks.”

“Well, we’ll make them a fun couple weeks. As soon as my legs can hold me up for more than five minutes.” Hawke collapsed back on his bed. “Hey, guess what Varric?”

“What, Hawke?”

“Cullen likes me.”

“No accounting for taste.”

“I like him.”

“Like I said.”

Hawke smiled. “Think I need to grow the full beard back. That is the look he first fell in love with, go back to it.”

“Sure, Hawke.”

“I like it here with the big stupid sky.” Hawke nodded to himself. “This is gonna be fun.”

“That will be a word for it. I need to go to the bar, get some numbers going on this with Bull.”

“It will be wonderful and romantic, and perfect.” Hawke began to plan his actual and going to be real romance with Cullen.

It was an utter disaster and perfectly Hawke, and Cullen loved every bit of it. Because he loved every bit of Hawke.

Hawke loved very specific bits of Cullen, once he was healed. Loudly, and offen.


End file.
